Draconian Heritage
by remus lupin kisses x.x
Summary: Read to find out. Please review


Harry sat in the corner of his room staring into space trying is hardest to ignore the pain pulsing through out his body. There weren't many visible wounds, except for slight bruises here and there; most of his pain came from deep within.

Tears tried their hardest to break the barrier of his eyes, but were suppressed with an iron will. This was his life, his hell hole and he would be damned if he would show even the slightest weakness.

A slight tremor ran through his body as his mind flashed over what had just happened. He had been making his uncle's usual mid morning snack and had dropped a piece of meat on the floor. Vernon had been so angry…

_"You stupid freak!" Vernon screamed.  
"I'm sorry, it was an accident." Harry said quietly.  
"It's always and accident with you isn't it? You always do something wrong. Do you want to know why?"Vernon asked dangerously.  
Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply, but when he tried to speak all that came out was a slight, inaudible grunt.  
"I asked you a question boy! I expect an answer!" Vernon's face was turning an unsightly shade of reddish purple and his eyes were beginning to bulge.  
"Yes sir."  
"Yes sir what?" Vernon asked.  
"Yes sir, I would like to know why I always do something wrong." Harry bit out his ears turning slightly red in his fear and anger.  
"It is because your dad and mum were fuck ups! When you breed two fuck ups together, that's what you get another fuck up.  
"Don't call my parents fuck ups! You're the fuck up!" Harry yelled at the top of his voice. Even before he said it he knew that it was the wrong thing to do. Vernon's face grew even redder and he grabbed Harry's arm in a bruising grip.  
"You'll pay for that one." Vernon hit Harry in the face so hard that he fell to the floor.  
Harry felt the sharp pain, but knew that it was nothing compared to what was about to come. The first kick landed in his stomach knocking out his breath.  
"You…little…fucking…bastard." Each word Vernon spoke was followed by a brutal kick.  
Harry couldn't think through all the pain, but he wouldn't cry out. He took every hit in silence the only sound emanating from his lips were tiny grunts. When he heard the buckle on Vernon's pants being undone he winced closing his eyes even tighter. It was only a moment before he was picked up and shoved over the side of the table and his pants were torn from his body. The tip of Vernon's dick probed between his ass cheeks..._

Harry shook himself violently clasping his knees to his chest, hoping for comfort, but comfort denied him. Why should he deserve comfort anyway? He was a freak and the only thing freaks deserved was death. The only hope that he had was to survive until the end of summer.

He grimaced when he saw the tear in his favorite black silk shirt. He stood up and walked into the bathroom to get a better look. His eye was blackening slightly, but he barely noticed it. He was more concerned by the fact that his newly acquired eyebrow ring seemed to be bleeding.

Shit! Maybe he had been watching too many movies from the United States because his language had gone from bad to worse. He grabbed some cotton balls and a bottle of rubbing alcohol out of the mirror cupboard. He dabbed it on. It stung, but he was used to a little pain, shit he was used to a lot of pain. He stuck his tongue out to check his tongue ring. It seemed fine.

Harry had changed his appearance over the summer. His ears were pierced with shiny silver loops and he no longer wore glasses, preferring instead to use muggle contacts; he was tired of his glasses breaking every time he decided to do anything. His wardrobe consisted of mostly Tripp pants, black shirts with vulgar phrases on them, and spiked chokers. He wasn't goth, he just really liked black. It matched his mood. Pastel colors were for innocent little girls and naïve adults.

Stripping his clothes off he tossed his shirt into the trash, it was too fucked up to be of any use in the future anyway. He looked at his skin, gingerly moving his fingers over the worst of his bruises. His abs had grown defined due to his years of Quidditch practice and fighting with his cousin and they were covered in vicious looking boot prints.

Sighing he got into the shower and turned it on to warm. He scrubbed himself until his skin was raw trying desperately to get any trace of Vernon of his skin. Not that it matter much anyway. Tomorrow it would probably happen again and then he would end up repeating the same cycle. Monotony was his middle name.

He dried himself off, pulled on some boxers, and got into bed. If he were younger he would probably have stayed awake and waited until he turned 17 at twelve, but his birthday didn't really matter to him anyway. It just proved he had lived that long without being killed.

He drifted off into a restless and painful sleep, not knowing that tomorrow would bring something that would change his life forever.


End file.
